PS 3089 
.T33 E3 





















































DENISON’S ACTING PLAYS. 

Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid. Catalogue Free. 


M. F. 


All that Glitters is not Gold, com¬ 
edy, 2 acts, 2 hrs. 6 3 

All Expenses, Ethiopian, 10 min. 2 0 

Assessor, sketch, 15 min.3 2 

Babes in Wood, burlesque,25 min 4 3 
Borrowing Trouble, farce, 30 min 3 5 

Bad Job, farce, 30 min.3 2 

Bumble's Courtship, sketch, 18 m. 1 1 
Bardell vs. Pickwick, farce, 25 m. 6 2 
Back from Californy, Ethiopian, 

12 min. 3 0 

Caste, comedy, 3 acts i 2 hrs. 30 m. 5 3 
Cow that Kicked Chicago, farce, 

20 min.3 2 

Country Justice, farce, 15 min,... 8 0 
Circumlocution Office, 20 min_6 0 


Chimney Corner (or Grandfather’s 
Mistake), drama, 2 acts, 1 hr. 

30 min..,.5 2 

Danger Signal, drama, 2 acts, 2 hrs 7 4 
Desperate Situation, farce, 25 min 2 3 
Deaf in a Horn, Ethiopian, 8 min. 2 0 
East Lynne, drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 8 7 

Family Strike, farce, 20 min.8 3 

Fruits of Wine Cup, Temperance 

drama, 3 acts. 1 hr.— 6 4 

Friendly Move, sketch, 20 min... 5 0 
Funnygraph, Ethiopian, 12 min.. 6 0 

Home/comedy, 3 acts, 2 hrs.4 3 

Handy Andy, Ethiopian, 12 min.. 2 0 
Haunted House, Ethiopian, 8min. 5 0 

Homceopathy, farce, 30 min.1 5 3 

Hans Yon Smash, farce, 30 min.. 4 3 
Hard Cider, Temperance, 15 min. 4 2 
Initiating a Granger, farce, 25 m. 8 0 

In the Dark, farce, 25 min._ ...4 2 

In the Wrong House, farce, 30 m 4 2 
Irish Linen Peddler, farce, 40 min 3 3 
Is the Editor In, farce, 20 min.... 4 2 
I’ll Stay Awhile, farce, 20 min.... 4 0 
Ici on Parle Francais, farce, 40 m. 4 3 
Cm not Mesilf at AH, farce, 25 in. 3 2 

John Smith, farce, 30 min... 5 3 

Joke on Squinim, Ethiop. 25 min. 4 2 

Jumbo Jum, farce, 50 min.4 3 

Kansas Immigrants, farce, 30 m.. 5 1 
Kiss in the Dark, farce, 30 min... 2 3 
Louva the Pauper, drama, 5 acts, 

1 hr. 45 min. 9 4 

Larkins’ Love Letters, farce, 50 m. 3 2 
Lady of Lyons, drama, 5 acts, 2 

hrs. 30 min. 8 4 

Limerick Boy, farce, 30 min. 5 2 

Lost in London, drama, 3 acts, 1 

hr. 45 min. (j 3 

London Assurance, comedy, 5 acts, 

2 hrs. 30 min. ..9 3 

Lucy’s Old Man, sketch, 15 min.. 2 3 
Michael Erie, drama, 2 acts, 1 hr. 

30 min. 8 3 

Mike Donovan’s Courtship, com- 

r edietta, 2 acts, 15 min. 1 3 

Movement Cure, farce, 15 min_ 5 0 

Mrs. Gamp’s Tea, sketch, 15 min. 0 2 
Mischievous Nigger, farce, 20 min. 4 2 
My Wife’s Relations, comedy, 1 hr 4 6 


My Jeremiah, farce, 20 min. 3 2 

My Turn Next, farce, 50 min. 4 3 


My Neighbor’s Wife, farce, 45 m. 3 3 


x. y. 

Not Such a Fool as he Looks, com¬ 
edy, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 5 8 

No Cure No Pay, Ethiopian, 10m. 3 1 
Only Daughter, drama, 3 acts, 1 

nr. 15 min . 5 2 

Our Country, drama, 3 acts, 1 hr..10 8 
Odds with the Enemy, drama, 5 

acts, 2 hrs. 7 4 

On the Brink, Temperance drama, 

2 acts, 2 hrs.12 8 

Othello and Desdemona, Ethio¬ 
pian, 12 min.2 0 

Pet of Parsons’ Ranch, frontier 

drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 9 8 

Pets of Society, farce, 30 min.0 7 

Pull Back, farce, 20 min. 0 6 

Pocahontas, music’l h’rlesque, 1 h.10 S 


Parlor Entertainment, 25 min... 2 8 
Played and Lost, sketch, 15 min.. 3 £■ 
Persecuted Dutchman, 35 min.... 6 5 

Quiet Family, farce, 45 min. 4 4 

Quar’some Serv’nts, Ethiop 8 min 3 C 

Regular Fix, farce, 50 min. 6 4 

Rough Diamond, farce, 40 min... 4 3 
Solon Shingle, comedy, 2 acts, 1 

hr. 30 min. 7 & 

Soldier of Fortune, comedy, 5 

acts, 2 hrs. 20 min. 8 3 

Seth Greenback, drama, 4 acts, 1 

hr. 15 min. 7 3 

School Ma’am(The), drama, 4 acts, 

1 hr. 45 min. 6 B 

Stage Struck Darkev, 10 min.... 2 1 
Stocks Up, Stocks Down, Ethio¬ 
pian, 8 min. 2 0 

Snorts on a Lark, Ethiopian, 8 m. 3 0 
Sham Doctor, Ethiopian, 15 min. 4 % 
Slasher and Crasher, farce, 1 hr. 

15 min. 5 3 

Squeers’ School, sketch, 18 min.. 4 2 
Sparkling Cup, Temperance 


Too Much of a Good Thing, farce, 

50 min . 3 ft 


Two Gents in Fix, farce, 20 min 2 0 
Two Puddifoots. farce, 40 min... 3 8 
Two Pompeys, Ethiopian, 8 min. 4 0 
Tricks, Ethiopian farce, 15 min.. 5 2 
Ticket of Leave Man, drama, 4 


acts, 2 hrs. 45 min. 8 3 

Turn Him Out, farce, 50 min. 3 8 


Toodles, drama, 2 acts, 1 hr. 15 m. 6 2 
Ten Nights in a Bar Room, Tem¬ 
perance drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs. .11 6 
Two Ghosts in White, sketch, 25 m 0 b 


Under the Laurels, drama, 5 acts, 

1 hr. 45 min. 5 4 

Unhappy Pair, Ethiopian, 10 min. 8 0 
Uncle Jeff, Ethiopian farce, 25 m. 5 2 
Wanted a Correspondent, farce, 2 

acts, 1 hr. 4 4 

Wide Enough for Two, farce 50m. 5 2 
Which will ne Marry, farce, 30 m. 2 8 
Won at Last, comedy, 3 acts, 1 hr. 

45 min. 7 3 

Women of Lowenhurg, Historical 

Sketch, 5 scenes, 50 min.10 10 

Yankee Detective, drama, 3 acts, 

2 hrs.8 S 


r, S. DENISON, Publisher, 163 Randolph St., Chicago* 



















































EARLY VOWS 


A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS 



By C. F. TOWNSEND, 

f! 

AUTHOR OF “ON GUARD," " WONDERFUL LETTER ” ETC. 



AS PERFORMED UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF THE AUTHOR 

c qPYRIGHT 

SEP 141889 ) 

-■ 2 .ao3f / 


CHICAGO: 

T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 
163 Randolph Street. 







CAST OF CHARACTERS 



( Townsend Comedy Co.) 


Capt. Winihrop. 

Ned Wilder. 

Hon. James Curtice, 

vSampson. 

Miriam Curtice. 

Susan. 


Col. Townsend 
. E. S. Dayton 
.H. N. Wilmot 


.A. S. Smith 

Miss Jennie Foster 
.Miss Laura Devoe 


Time of playing, one hour. 


COSTUMES, ETC. 


Captain Winthrop —Leading man; age 25. Elegant appearance, easy 
manner of traveled gentleman; refined in speech and action. Cos¬ 
tume: cut-away velvet coat, woolen shirt, knitted scarf, corduroy 
trousers, siik hat, leggins or riding boots, spurs, riding whip. 

Ned Wilder —Eccentric comedian; age 23. A “Bohemian” character 
throughout, easy and impudent. Costume, shabby genteel; ring 
on finger. 

Hon. James Curtice— First old man; age 50. Hair, slightly gray; quick 
and decisive in speech, but inclined to be “fussy” Dark suit, 
Prince Albert or sack. Has note to bring on in Act I. 

Sampson —Eccentric old man; age 65, Half bald; gray wig; slight stoop; 
rather “shaky” in walk; speech tart and irritable. Plain black suit. 

Miriam Curtice— Leading lady; age 18. Romantic, ijnpulsive, and 
slightly inclined to gush. First dress, plain wrapper; second dress 
(Act Second), rich and elegant house dress. 

Susan —Soubrette; age 18. Neat, quiet dress. Letter in envelope to bring on. 


SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAMME. 


Act I.—The Quarrelsome Servants—The Romantic Maiden—A Practical 
Father—“ Marry your Grandmother!”—The Letter—The Captain 
Arrives—Cold Water—A Scheme—The Nephew pro tern —A Warm 
Welcome—The Captain hears some Flattering Remarks—An Acci¬ 
dent—Love Making—Reviving “ Old Memories”—Another Letter— 
A Bombshell!—The Captain’s Dilemma A Quarrel—“ Not a Word, 
Sir!”—The New Arrival—Tableau! 

Act II.— Ned in Possession — A Narrow Escape — “Sh!” — More Plots — 
The Captain’s Plan—Ned’s Welcome—The Bogus Captain—Some 
Tough Stories—Making Up - Ned in Luck—The Mystery Deepens— A 
False Step—Trouble Ahead—“Who Are You?”—The Captain Ex¬ 
plains—“Early Vows like Ropes of Sand, are never Binding”—Finale. 


Note. —Though this play has complete stage directions, it may readily be 
presented in any parlor, a door on either side being the principal requisite. 


Copyright , 1889, by T. S. Denison. 















^rx.fiwaa.:• a■ 


EARLY VOWS. 


ACT I. 

Scene. An elegantly furnished parlor , sofa R. C.j small table 
with books , etc ., L.; door C. in flat , Z. i E. f and R. U. E.; 
discover Susan at table arranging books. 

Susan. Poetry, and such like ! That’s what missus reads 
day and night. I wonder what the stuff is like? ( Opens book.) 
Here’s a place that’s been marked. (Reads.) “She never 
told her love, but let con—con—( spells ) c-e-a-1, ceal—conceal, 
m-e-n-t, ment—con-ceal-ment feed upon her dam—dam—” 

Enter Sampson, C. D. 

Samp. Wha—what—what’s that? Swearing? Oh, Susan! 
Susan, (R.) No, I ain’t! 

Samp. (Z.) Yes, you were. 

Susan. Wasn’t. Guess I know. 

Samp. You said “damn,” and damn, that’s swearing. 
Susan. Well, you needn’t swear at me anyhow, you wicked 
old Methusalum. ( Threatening .) Oh, I could just scratch 
your eyes out! 

Enter Mr. Curtice C. D., followed by Miriam, who goes L.) 

Mr. C. Heyday! What’s all this! 

Susan, j ( Together ) He was swearing! 

Samp. ( R.) f She was swearing! 

Mr. C. Well, I swear! 

Mir. (Z.) Now don’t, papa. (Exit Susan R. Cl. E.) 
Samp. (Aside) Now I’ll take my oath she said “damn.” 
(Exit L. i E.) ^ 





4 


EARLY VOWS. 


Mr. C. There you are—pepper and vinegar. ( Comes 

down C .) 

Mir. {Seated on sofa.) Ah, there is no agreement in this 
world except between affinities. 

Mr. C. That reminds me. I expect that your affinity will 
be here to-day. 

Mir. To-day! 

Mr. C. Without doubt. I am on the downhill side of life, 
and, although I maybe called rich, yet as a loving, considerate 
parent, I long to see my only child happily settled in life. 
You have refused a number of very good offers, and there¬ 
fore I think it is time for me to interfere. My neighbor and 
old friend—Mr. Winthrop—has a son who has lately arrived 
from abroad. He is all that any girl can desire; young, rich, 
handsome, a soldier too—won his spurs in Algeria—the man 
of a thousand. 

Mir. And he is coming here to propose marriage? 

Mr. C. I am not sure of that. 

Mir. He’d better not. 

Mr. C. Indeed! And why? 

Mir. Because I am in duty bound to refuse him. Because 
—if you must know—I am bound by a solemn vow to marry 
the love of my youth. 

Mr. C. Marry your grandmother! Just out of your nur¬ 
sery, and talking of your youth! One would think you were 
eighty, instead of eighteen. 

Mir. You remember my cousin Ned? 

Mr. C. Your cousin Ned! Remember him! A vagabond 
who never earned a dollar in his life, and is always drawing on 
me for money! 

Mir. Yes—but then he was so grand, stylish, elegant, and 
oh, so romantic. He holds my plighted troth. 

Mr. C. Your plighted moonshine! 

Mir. He looked so handsome that day he left for Paris. 
Just think of it, papa, it was eight long years ago—and I 


EARLY VOWS. 


5 


haven’t seen him since. The day he left me he said to me: 
“Darling, I am going far away, across the broad Atlantic, 
across the bounding billows, to the sunny land of France. 
Promise that you will not marry before I return—that you love 
me, and will be my own true wife.” I gave him my word and a 
ring—which was too big for him then —and we plighted our 
vows! 

Mr. C. Stuff! How old were you? 

Mir. I was ten years old, papa. 

Mr. C. Ten years old. ( Half aside.) If this thing keeps 
on, what will the world come to? He left Paris two years ago. 
Have you seen anything of him since ? 

Mir. No, papa. But in the calm, still night, when the 
earth is wrapped in dewy slumber, and the beauteous moon— 

Mr. C. Oh, confound the moon! 

Mir. Sails through the starry vault of heaven, touching 
all things with her silvery glory, I often think of my absent 
love, and wonder if he thinks of me. ( Rises and goes Li) 

Mr. C. Most likely he thinks of me and wonders how 
much he can bleed me for next time. Now, my dear, the 
advice I offer is this: Throw away your nonsensical novels, 
forget your vagabond cousin, and make up your mind to marry 
Capt. Winthrop—if possible. 

Mir. But it is not possible. I know that he is a great, 
fierce, savage, ugly brute of a soldier who swears dreadfully 
and drinks rum. I cannot marry him—indeed I cannot. If 
you force me to it I know I shall die, and my wedding dress 
will be my shroud. I—I—feel weak already; I—I— (-gasping, 
ha?id on heart) I feel that I am going into a decline. 

Mr. C. Bless my soul! ( Supports her to sofa.) There— 
there—there. ( Pets her.) You need not marry him—unless 
you wish. 

Mir. (Faintly.) And yet you will force me. to see him. 

Mr. C. No, I wont — no, I wont. I’ll write him a note. 
I’ll tell him to go back to Europe, to go to the—ahem—or any- 


6 


EARLY VOWS. 


where. I’ll tell him-you are already married, or engaged, 
or— (Aside.) I’m in a deuce of a mess! (Exit L. i E.) 

Mir. (Rising ami dancing about.) I’m better now! Poor 
dear, darling old papa; it is really too bad to pull the wool 
over his eyes in this way, but I cannot be false to my first and 
only heart’s true love. Poor Ned. To think that-1 have not 
seen him for eight long and weary years. But I would know 
him the moment I saw him. Time cannot dim love’s eyesight. 

Enter Mr. Curtice, L. i E., followed by Sampson. 

Mr. C. Here is the note. You may send Sampson with it. 
(Goes to table — Miriam takes note.) 

Mir. Thank you. Here, Sampson, hurry off with this 
note to Capt. Winthrop. It’s only three miles to his country 
house, and don’t you stop to breathe until you get there. 
This will keep him at home. I’m so glad. Now fly! Come, 
papa. (Seizes Curtice’s hands and whirls him off , R. U. E.) 

Samp. (Looks at letter.) This will keep him home—don’t 
you stop to breathe—I’m so glad —now fly—come, papa! 
(Dances about clumsily). 

Enter Winthrop, C. D. 

Win. (Observing Sampson.) Hello! The old fellow has 
begun early. I wonder if it is the regular thing to get 
drunk before noon? Good morning. If you are sober enough 
to speak, please tell Mr. Curtice that— 

Samp. I beg your pardon, sir, but I cannot tell Mr. Cur¬ 
tice anything. I have got to fly. 

Win. Fly! (Aside.) Oh, he’s surely drunk— or crazy. 

Samp. Yes, sir. That’s my order; fly to Capt. Winthrop 
with this note. And don’t you think, sir, that I’m rather old 
for flying? 

Win. Old? No, indeed. If anything you’re too young 
Your wings have not even sprouted. But I know Capt. Win. 
throp, and as I shaft ride over to his place in a short time, I 
will take the note. 


EARLY VOWS. 7 

Samp. Thank you, sir. (Gives note.) It will save my old 
bones a shaking. (Exit R. U. El) 

Win. (Reading address.) “Capt L. H. Winthrop.” That’s 
myself. For quick delivery this beats Uncle Sam. (Opens 
letter and reads.) Hum! Well! Here is cold water. “Heart¬ 
felt regrets,” and all that sort of thing. (Sits.) Let me see. 
The governor wrote me a month ago to leave Paris at once 
and hasten home, as he had found a girl who would suit me in 
every particular. As I am fond of being suited, I left the gay 
capital without a murmur. The governor says that the girl is 
young, bright, pretty, and one whose only fault is some roman¬ 
tic notions. But here I’ am—thrown over without warning. 
( Walks about.) Though, why should I care—she’s a total 
stranger. And yet, I am not in the habit of being treated in 
this way. (Reads again.) “In love with her cousin whom she 
has not seen for eight years.” Indeed! Eight years. Here’s 
a go! They say that people change throughout in seven 
years. Nobody knows me here. I'll pass myself off as that 
cousin and win her, incognito. It’s a risk—but what of that? 
I’ve taken bolder ones before. Now, then, for business. 

Enter Susan R. U. E. 

Susan. (Aside.) Oh, what a handsome young man! 

Win. Good-morning, my dear. (Kisses her.) Aren’t you 
glad to see me? 

Susan. La, sir! Who are you? 

Win. Don’t you know, my dear? 

Susan. No, indeed, sir—unless you are Miss Miriam’s 
'cousin, Mr. Ned Wilder, whom she often mentions. 

Win. I am he. (Aside.) Lucky chance; I’ve found out 
who I am. 

Susan. Then I’ll run and tell her. (Exit C. D.) 

Win. So the cousin is Ned Wilder, and I am Ned Wilder 
pro tem. Oh, I’m getting on finely! 

Enter Curtice, R. U. E. 

Mr. C. (Aside.) A stranger here! Who is he, 1 wonder? 


8 


EARLY VOWS. 


Win. (Aside.) This must be my newly adopted uncle. 
I’ll chance it. 

Mr. C. Good-morning, sir. You wish* to see me? 1 am— 

Win. You are—you are (embracing him) my long lost 
uncle! 

Mr. C. (Breaking away.) Good gracious! You are not— 

Win. Indeed, indeed I am—your own dear, loving nephew. 
(Embracing him ) 

Mr. C. (Disgusted.) Well—stop pawing me, anyhow. 

Win. Aren’t you glad to see me! 

Mr. C. Delighted. (Aside.) Oh, Lord! (Aloud.) What 
the mischief do you want ? Your good looks and splendid 
talents should command high honors abroad. (Aside.) That 
girl will go wild over him—confound it! 

Win. Thank you, uncle. Perhaps you can get me ap¬ 
pointed U. S. Minister to France or Russia. I don’t like 
England. 

Mr. C. No! I might, perhaps, get you appointed Minister 
to the North Pole orTimbuctoo. 

Win. You overpower me. But really, there is a limit, 
even, to my vaulting ambition. 

Mr. C. I am very glad of that. Perhaps, then, we may 
come to an understanding-. Ned, you are a chip from the old 
block. Your father, Jack Wilder, deserved his name, for a 
wilder harum-scarum never lived. Pardon the pun; but he 
was the soul of good nature, and 1 trust you inherit that much. 
It was all he had to leave you, except his name. 

Win. Poor old governor! 

Mr. C. Yes, Ned, he was poor—financially speaking, 
that is why I took you into my own family, brought you up 
like a son, and when you were yet a mere boy allowed you to 
go abroad. You wished to study art, to become a great 
painter—a modern Angelo. I sent you to Paris, dressed you 
like a nabob, and supplied you with plenty of money. 

Win. Which won my boundless gratitude. (Embracing him.) 


EARLY VOWS. 


9 


Mr. C. (Throwing him off.) Let me alone, will you! One 
would think you were acting a part. 

Win. (Aside) One would think just right. 

Mr. C. In view of what I have done in the past, and am 
willing to do in the future, I think that I am justified in 
saying good-bye and wishing you a pleasant journey. You 
have just time to catch the train. 

Win. Catch the train? How, where, what train? 

Mr. C. No matter what, so long as it bears you away in 
safety. 

Win. (Huffily.) You .want to get rid of me, then. 

Mr. C. I am sorry to say that 1 do—for a short time. 
Come back in a little while—say ten or twelve years—and I 
will be glad to see you. 

Win. And this is my welcome home after eight long years 
of weary wandering! Before I can catch my breath and say 
“Hello!” you turn me out into a cold and pitiless world with 
nothing but my good looks and your money to aid me. No, 
sir! (Sits.) 

Mr. C. It is for your sake. 

Win. Humph! 

Mr. C. And my daughter’s. 

Win. Ah, my dear little Miriam; it is she whom I came to 
see. 

Mr. C. Of course, of course; might have known that! 
See here, Ned, I believe that you are a gentleman, so I shall 
let you into a secret. I had arranged a marriage between my 
daughter and Capt. Winthrop who, like yourself, has been 
abroad for many years. He is a man of wealth, rank; ability 
—not an idle dreamer like you—but a noble young man, sir. 

Win. Thank you. (Aside.) Unconscious flattery, how 
sweet thou art! 

Mr. C. But my daughter wont have him, and it’s all vour 
fault. 

Win. (Astounded.') Mine? 


o 


EARLY VOWS. 


Mr. C. Yours. Some stupid early vows you two young 
idiots made, about marrying when you were grown up, and all 
that stuff. So I want you to pack up and clear out before 
she sees you. 

Win. But you know, uncle— 

Mr. C. Not a word, not a word! 

Mir. ( Appearing at C. D.) Papal 

Mr. C. (Goes L .) Drat the luck! 

Win. (Goes R.) Here she is! 

Enter Miriam C. D. 

Mir. (Not seeing Winthrop.) Where is he, papa, where? 

Mr. C. “He?" Who is “he?" 

Mir. Cousin Ned. I know that he is here. Susan told me. 

Mr. C. (Aside.) Susan be hanged! 

Mir. But I knew he was coming. Prof. Plummer, our old 
teacher, saw Ned in New York, and he said that he would be 
here to-day. 

Win. (Aside.) The deuce he will! 

Mir. (Seeing Winthrop.) Who is that gentleman? 

Mr. C. (Hesitates.) A—a—book agent. (To Winthrop.*) 
I don’t want any lightning rods to-day, sir. 

Mir. Book agent—lightning rods—what do you mean? 
(Looks closely at Winthrop.) Ah! I know! I know! It's Ned! 
My own dear darling. Ned! (They embrace effusively.) 

Mr. C. (Sits, disgusted.) Um! Dash it all! 

Win. (Aside.) This is comfortable. 

Mir. (Disengaging herself.) The prodigal has finally re¬ 
turned. (They stand, swinging hands.) I am so very, very 
glad to see you. You haven’t changed a particle, Ned, since 
your boyhood, except that you are ever so much better 
looking. 

Win. Thank you. And you—ah, dearest—you are lovelier 
than I had ever dreamed—a beautiful vision from the Isles of 
Enchantment! 


EARLY VOWS. 


II 


Mir. How romantic! 

Mr. C. (Aside.) Yah! What rot! 

Win. (To Mr. C.) Did you speak, sir? (Curtice looks 
disgusted.) 

Mir. Were you surprised when Irecognized you? 

Win. Oh, no. (Aside.) Wasn’t I, though! (Conversational 
business with Miriam.) 

Enter Sampson, C. D. 

Sampson. Oh, Mr. Curtice, sir—if you please, sir! 

Mr. C. Well? 

Samp. Yes, sir; it is the—the well. 

Mr. C. Well, what? 

Samp. The new one they’re digging. The gardener has 
tumbled in. 

Mr. C. Fish him out. 

Samp. B— b—but the well has tumbled in on him. 

Mr. C. I’ll come directly. (Exit Sampson, C. D.) Excuse 
me, please. 

Mir. With pleasure, papa. 

Win. Don’t mention it. 

Mr. C. (Aside.) I must leave them here, I suppose. 
Botheration! They will be making hurricane love while I am 
gone. (Exit slowly, C. D.) 

Win. Now I’m in for it! 

Mir. He’s gone at last! (Takes his arm.) Now we can 
have a good long talk over old times. Wont that be nice! 

Win. Delightful, I’m sure. (Aside.) Um-m-m! (They 
walk slowly up stage durhig conversation , then return and sit on 
sofa.) 

Mir. It only seems like yesterday since we were children 
together. 

Win. Yesterday? Why, to me it seems as if we had met 
for the first time within an hour. (Aside.) That’s gospel 
truth. 


12 


EARLY VOWS. 


Mir. Let's see—you remember “Baby?” 

Win. Baby? (Puzzled.) Er—oh, yes, yes. The dear lit¬ 
tle fellow. 

Mir. Little? Why, we called him baby for fun, because he 
was so big. 

Win. I suppose he is grown up and married by this time! 

Mir. Married! (Laughing.) A Newfoundland dog mar¬ 
ried? 

Win. (Aside.) There! I have made a pretty mess of it! 

Mir. I suppose you remember Tom? 

Win. No —I’ll be blessed if I do. 

Mir. What! Tom, the old fisherman, whose boat we used 
to steal? 

Win. (Quickly.) Oh, yes, I recall him now. 

Mir. And those lovely picnic parties— 

Win. Yes, yes! 

Mir. Weren’t they splendid! 

Win. Indeed they were! 

Mir. How delightful! You recall everything. 

Win. Of course I do! (Aside.) W r hen she tells me. 

Mir. And one day we were driving, and the horses ran 
away— 

Win. And we tumbled out! 

Mir. No, we didn’t, for the horses ran into the fence and 
stopped. 

Win. That’s so. 

Mir. Then you kissed me, and said how brave I was be¬ 
cause I never cried. 

Win. Certainly—you dear little heroine. (Kisses her.) 

Mir. How well you remember! And theji you kissed me 
again— 

Win. Wait a minute; I haven’t got that last kiss. ( Kisses 
her.) Now go ahead. And then? 

Mir. And then I pretended to be angry, and threatened to 
tell papa. 



EARLY VOWS. 


r 3 


Win. But you never did! 

Mir. Oh, of course not. I wasn’t foolish enough for that. 

Win. And after that I kissed you every day. 

Mir. No, you did not; for papa sent you away the next 
morning. He said you would break both our necks if you 
remained here any longer. 

Win. What a desperate character I must have been. 

Mir. It was only high spirits. But oh, dear Ned, you 
were sad enough the day you left. How I cried. 

Win. It was dreadful. 

Mir. Ah, me! But you—of course you remember what 
you said? 

Win. Certainly. (Aside.) I’m in for it now. 

Mir. I know the exact words. (Repeats impressively.) “Be 
true to me, darling, as the needle to the'pole. Promise to 
wait for me, and when I return with fame and fortune, to be 
my own sweet bride.” 

Win. (Aside.) Tremendous! 

Mir. So we clasped our hands and swore. 

Win. (Surprised.) Eh? 

Mir. Swore to be ever faithful and true. . So our vows are 
registered there. (Looks upward?) 

Win. ( Rises, looks about. ) Where? 

Mir. (Pointing upward.) There. 

Win. Why, certainly; to be sure. 

Mir. I have kept my vow, both in letter and spirit. Have 
you done equally well ? 

Win. I hope so. (Aside.) I am a regular fraud. 

Mir. Then your heart never turned aside for any proud 
European beauty? 

Win. (Forcibly.) My heart has been yours from the mo¬ 
ment that I looked into your beautiful eyes. That is the truth 
my darling. 

Mir. I am so glad. (L,ays head on his shoulder.) 

Win. So am I. ( Kisses her.) 


i4 


EARLY VOWS. 


Enter Susan quickly , C. D., envelope in hand. 

Susan. (Aside.) Now .he's kissing missus! My Lord, 
what a man. (Comes down a little.) Ahem—m! 

Mir. Susan! (Crosses L.) 

Win. The dev—ah, tra la la! (Goes /l.) 

Susan. Don’t mind me—not a bit. (Down C.) I vow, I 
saw nothing. Here is a letter for master. 

Mir. I will take it. 

Susan. Yes, miss. (Gives letter; then aside to Winthrop) 
I saw you kiss her! 

Win. Hush! 

Susan. (Laughing.) Oh, you men! (Exit L. i E.) 

Mir. (Looking at envelope.) I wonder who it’s from? And it 
is marked “immediate,” too. It must be something dread¬ 
fully important. 

Win. Very likely. A dun, perhaps. Bills are always 
important. 

Mir. Oh, dear—perhaps somebody’s dead—or—something. 

Win. No doubt of it; especially the “or something.” 

Mir. Isn’t it dreadful! 

Win. It’s just awful! 

Mir. Now you are laughing at me, and I think it’s a sha— 
sha—shame! (Crosses E, crying.) 

Win. (Following her.) 1 'here—there ( soothingly ), don’t 
cry any more. (Arm around her.) Come—dry your eyes— 
that’s a dear. (Kissing her.) 

Enter Mr. Curtice, C. D. 

Mr. C. (Aside.) They have lost no time, that’s evident. 
(Aloud.) I say! 

Mir. (Startled.) Oh, papa! 

Mr. C. Yes, it’s “Oh, papa.” 

Win. Dug out the gardener already, sir? 

Mir. Here is a letter for you. (Gives letter.) 

Mr. C. (Opening letter.) Thank you. (Miriam rejoins 


EARLY VOWS. 15 

Winthrop.) So— ( Looking at letter .) Ah, ha! Thunder 
and lightning! 

Win. Anything serious’ 

Mr. C. Serious— serious! You young scallawag! You 
vagabond! You piratical pirate! 

Win. Here! Hang me if I'll stand that! 

Mr. C. You are nothing else. Read this letter, sir. 

Win. f Takes letter , reads aloud!) “Hon. James Curtice— 
Dear Sir: “I write this to inform you that your nephew—Mr. 
Edward Wilder—some months since borrowed from me the 
sum of one thousand dollars, putting up as security a demand 
note which he said you would pay if he did not. I can get 
nothing from him—therefore send me your check by return 
mail, or I shall make public a very serious matter in which he 
is entangled.” 

Mr. C. You are a fine fellow. 

Mir. Is this true? 

Win. (Puzzled.) Well— I— er— I suppose so. 

Mir. A vagabond—a pi—pi—piratical pirate! 

Win. It looks that way; but you see — 

Mr. C. And this other affair—what is that? 

Win. (Aside.) By Jove! I wish I knew! 

Mir. Come, sir—what is it? 

Mr. C. Yes, sir — what is it? 

^ IR C j- (Together.) Explain! 

Win. Give me time. (Aside.) What shall I say? 

Mir. Not a moment. 

Mr. C. No, sir, not a moment. (Aside.) I’ll have them 
quarreling directly. 

Win. It is impossible to explain just now. 

Mir. (Huffily!) Very well, Ned—very well, sir. You 
kn.ow that papa and I would forgive you anything; but evi¬ 
dently, you do not wish to be forgiven. You, who were once 
the soul of honor, who had nothing to conceal—nothing to 


i6 


EARLY VOWS. 


explain. My heart grows faint when I think of the weighty 
secrets you carry, and which you cannot, dare not reveal. 

Mr. C. (Aside.) Jerusalem! Now they'll have a row. 

Win. But you see —my love— 

Mir. I see nothing, except that you do not trust me. (Sud¬ 
denly.) And that memento! (Takes his hand.) The ring 1 
gave you, which was so large that you wore it on your thumb! 
Where is that ring? Tell me; tell me! 

Win. Let me think; oh, yes—you see I haven’t got it. 

Mr. C. (Delighted.) Now they will have a row! 

Mir. Haven’t got it? Then you lost it, or, worse than all, 
you have given it away. (Crying.) That b-b-breaks—breaks 
my heart. 

Mr. C. (Aside.) Great Scot! JVont he catch it! . 

Mir. Very well, sir. If that is all you care for me, the 
sooner we part the better. I was so anxious to forgive you, 
so I was, and I would have forgiven you, so I would. But to 
give away my ring which you wore on your (crying) th —th— 
thumb! ( With sudden dignity.) Very well, Mr. Edward 
Wilder! Go your way, sir, and I’ll go mine. (Crosses.) 

Win. Listen to me. 

Mir. Not a word, sir. 

Win. (To Mr. Curtice.) You, then. 

Mr. C. No, sir! 

Win. (To Sampson, who enters C. D.) You will do. 

Samp. No. siree sir! (All take stage from front to rear and 
back, all talking at once. Repeat. Then all but Winthrop go 
Z., keeping up business of conversation. Winthrop goes R.) 

Enter Wilder, C. D. Comes down L. of Winthrop. 

Win. Who are you? 

Ned. Old touch-and-go’s nephew. My name is Wilder. 
And yours? 

Win. (Half aside.) The devil! 

Ned. You—don’t—say! 

Quick Curtain. 


EARLY VOWS. 


7 


ACT II. 

Scene.— Same as Act I. Discover Ned on sofa. 

Ned. I’m monarch of all I survey. Everybody cleared 
out the moment I arrived. Hum. ( Yawns.) This beats the 
deuce, as the man said when he played the tray. That was a 
nobby young fellow that asked my name. Seemed paralyzed 
when I told him. I wish somebody would show up. I’m half 
starved. ( Goes R; looks off Li) Hello, there comes—bless 
me, it’s old Sampson, looking just as he did eight years ago. 
Wonder if he’ll know me. ( To Sampson, who enters L. i £.) 
Hello, old stick-in-the mud! 

Samp. Stick-in-mud, sir! 

Ned. Don’t get wrathy. Where is everybody? They all 
ran away when I came. 

Samp. I don’t keep the run of everybody, sir; but Mr, 
Curtice and his daughter are dressing. They expect a visitor 
every moment. 

Ned. Whom? 

Samp. Capt. Winthrop. Mr. Curtice wrote him hot to 
come, but the messenger lost the note. May I know your 
name, sir? (Winthrop appears at C. D.) 

Ned. Certainly. My name is— 

Win. ( Warningly .) ’Sh! 

Ned. (To Sampson.) ’Sh! 

Samp. (Surprised.) Hey? What did you say your name is? 

Ned. I said my name is— 

Win. (As before.) Sh! 

Ned. (Same business.) Sh? 

Samp. That is a very odd name, sir, but I will tell Mr. 
Curtice if you choose. (Goes R.) Yes, sir. (Aside.) I be¬ 
lieve that he is an Anarchist or something. ’Sh! (Exit R. 
U. E.) 


i8 


EARLY VOWS. 


Enter Winthrop, C. D. 

Ned. My dear fellow, are you slightly insane? 

Win. No; but I have an idea. 

Ned. Ah— I suppose that accounts for all this funny work. 

Win. Exactly. You are, I believe, related to Mr. Curtice. 

Ned. I am—his dutiful nephew, Ned Wilder. No jokes, 
please; I know I am wilder than I should be, and all that. 
But what else could you expect in a second hand specimen of 
the prodigal son? The old gentleman hasn’t been suffering 
from enlargement of the heart of late. Shoo! If this con¬ 
tinues 1 shall soon have to work for a living. 

Win. Shocking! 

Ned. Isn’t it? If the old fellow would ante up— : 

Win. I judge that he has done so. Moreover, I believe 
that he will have to pay a cool thousand for you. 

Ned. Has that note come home to roost? 

Win. Indeed it has; and the holder thereof hints at some 
serious entanglement of yours. 

Ned. Does he, though! That’s a corker. 

Win. He mentions no particulars. 

Ned. I breathe again. The fact is, my dear fellow, I’m 
in a deuce of a hobble; and if you could—but I say, who are 
you anyhow? 

Win. Another relative—but not in high favor at present. 

Ned. Been giving the old man a twist? 

Win. Yes—something of the sort. 

Ned. You’re the stuff! Shake! {They shake hands.) 

Win. That’s an odd ring you wear. 

Ned. Yes—but it’s n. g. My cousin gave it to me when I 
left. Sacred memento—love’s token—you know—the usual 
rot. 

Win. Loan it to me, and I will tell you my plan. 

Ned. All right. (Gives ring.) Yours till death. Now fire 
away. 

Win. First, then—honor bright—do you love your cousin? 


EARLY VOWS. 


19 


Ned. Not—a—particle. Do you? 

Win. Yes. 

Ned. I thought so. (Raising hands.) Bless you, my 
children, bless you. I say—did the old fellow cut up rough 
when he heard of that note? 

Win. Rough? That is a feeble word. He was wild— 
called me everything but a gentleman. 

Ned. You? 

Win. I—er— you; I mean you. Now as I want to marry 
your cousin, and you do not, perhaps we can arrange matters. 

Ned. I’m-agreeable. 

Win. Good. Now, then; do you suppose your uncle 
would recognize you? 

Ned. No, indeed. 

Win. Very well If you should come here as a stranger—- 
one whom your uncle is anxious to meet—you could use your 
borrowed influence in your own behalf. 

Ned. Splendid idea. You’re a brick. Wont I put it on 
him! 

Win. Don’t overdo it. 

Ned. Never fear. My brass is only exceeded by my 
sagacity. But who am I to be? 

Win. Let me think. I have it! They are preparing to 
welcome a wealthy young man who has just returned from 
abroad. His name is Capt. Winthrop. He owns the adjoin¬ 
ing estate, and expects to marry Miss Curtice. I happen to 
know that he is not coming, and as nobody here knows him— 
except by reputation—you may take his place. 

Ned. Excellent! But ( doubtfully ), gaze on these togs. 
I’m not rigged out like a man of wealth. 

Win. Never mind. You’re an ardent sportsman, you 
know; fond of a wild gallop across country, and all that. 
It will be all right. A rich man can dress as he pleases. It is 
the poor devil who is obliged to dress well—or be cut by the 
great American snob. 


20 


EARLY VOWS. 


Ned. True enough. ( Goes up stage.) 

Win. [Front; aside) I might put an end to this nonsense, 
by letting them know who I am. But I want to cure that 
charming girl from her attack of romantic nonsense—and this 
is the only way. 

Ned. Old fellow! They’re coming. 

Win. Remember—you are Capt. Winthrop—served in Al¬ 
geria—French army corps—cavalry. You’re a dead shot, 
lightning swordsman, and a devil of a fellow in general. I’ll 
skip. Good luck! ( Exit C. D.) 

Ned. Good-bye. Now I’m in for it. Ahem! ( Struts 
down stage) A man of wealth; a soldier; Capt. Winthrop of 
the French army corps; thus is greatness thrust upon me. I 
await their onset. 

Enter Mr. Curtice and Miriam, R. U. E. 

Mr. C. Capt. Winthrop? 

Ned. ( Pompous military salute.) The same, sir. ( Stilted 
and pompous air.) 

Mr. C. I am overwhelmingly glad to see you. (Shakes his 
• hand.) 

Ned. The pleasure is mutual, sir. (Aside.) It’s all right. 
He don’t know me. 

Mr. C. Let me introduce you to my daughter. 

Ned. I shall be delighted. 

Mr. C. Miriam, my dear, this is Capt. Winthrop; Captain, 
my daughter, Miss Curtice. (They how.) 

Ned. Miss Curtice—yours devotedly. 

Mir. (Aside.) What a stupid dunce. So different from 
my cousin! 

Mr. C. Be seated, pray. (They sit, Ned center.) Did you 
like Europe, Captain? 

Ned. In some respects. But it is an infernal—ahem _ I 

beg pardon—a very unpleasant country for a man without 
money. 


EARLY VOWS. 


2 


Mr. C. But, happily, you were never troubled in that respect. 

Ned. Oh, no. (Aside.) Wasn’t I though! 

Mr. C. And so you have smelled powder in Algeria; sharp 
work, I suppose? 

Ned. Well, rather. Those Zulus are nasty fighters. 

Mir. Zulus? In Algeria? 

Ned. (Confused.) Er—well—we called ’em that for short, 
you know. 

Mir. Ah! I supposed they were known as Bedouins. 

Ned. Certainly—you’re right. (Aside.) She’s too infer¬ 
nally smart! 

Mr. C. Did you have any personal adventures? 

Ned. No end of them. 

Mr. C. We should be delighted— 

Ned. To hear a few? Really, my dear sir, I — 

Mr. C. (Half aside.) So modest! 

Mir. (Aside.) So stupid! Not at all like my cousin. 

Ned. Perhaps my battle with the—Bedouin— 7 chief, was 
the most remarkable of any. You see, l was out riding one 
rather cold day— 

Mir. Cold? In Algeria? 

Ned. Comparatively speaking. (Aside.) She’ll trip me, sure. 

Mr. C. Keep still, Miriam. Go on, Captain. 

Ned. As I said, I was out riding, when I saw a famous 
Bedouin approaching like the wind. I put spurs to my fleet 
Arabian steed— 

Mir. And ran away? 

Mr. C. Miriam! 

Ned. We approached each other rapidly. I am called a 
fine shot and wonderful swordsman. So was he. Soon as we 
got within range we pulled our revolvers and began firing. 
This continued until we were within ten feet of each other. 
Our revolvers were empty. Yet, strange to say, although 
both were dead shots, neither of us had beep hit. 

Mr. C. How was that? 




EARLY VOWS. 


Ned. Well, you see,*we both fired at once; and our aim 
was so accurate that the bullets met midway in the air and fell 
to the ground. 

Mr. C. Astonishing! 

Ned. You’re right. Then we drew our trusty blades, and 
went at it—cut, thrust and parry. Faster and faster came the 
blows. Lightning flashes were nowhere. Finally the rapid 
motion caused such intense heat that our swords melted right 
down. Then we dismounted and fought it out with our fists.- 
In the second round I gave him a stem winder—a regular la la 
—right out from the shoulder, and broke his neck. ( Goes up 
stage .) 

Mr. C. What a thrilling adventure! 

Mir. What a thrilling ( Aside) whopper! 

Ned. ( Coining down to Miriam.) I must beg, Miss Cur¬ 
tice, that you will excuse my somewhat unconventional appear¬ 
ance. You see I am an ardent sportsman, and, therefore, 
sometimes look rather shabby. (Miriam bows, coldly.) I have 
been out riding since before daybreak— 

Mir. [Coldly.) Perhaps you would like some refreshments. 

Mr. C. Why, certainly. Come with me, Captain. 

Ned. Oh, I’m not hungry—but as you insist—well, a lit¬ 
tle cake and a sup.of that famous Lafitte— 

Mr. C. ( Gratified .) Then you have heard of my claret? 

Ned. It is famous the country round. (Aside.) I got 
awfully drunk on it when a boy. 

Mr. C. This way, Captain. 

Ned. After you, sir. Miss Curtice, your devoted. (Sa¬ 
lutes, and follows Curtice off R. U. El) 

Mir. Oh, what an awful liar! And yet papa believetl him. 
That’s because papa has been so long in Congress—where 
truth is a 'lost art. And this bragging, blustering, ignorant, 
homely brute is the man whom papa would have me marry. 
But I wont marry him! The hateful, horrid thing! (Sobbing.) 
Oh, Ned! My dear, dear cousin, where are you? 


EARLY VOWS. 


23 


Enter Winthrop, C. D. 

Win. (C) I am here. 

Mir. (Z.) I thought you were gone for good. I am 
glad you are not. I—I—I mean, I wish you were. How 
dare you speak to me? 

Win. Pray be calm. In a few brief moments I shall leave 
you, Miss Curtice—leave you forever and aye. Let this, our 
last farewell, be said in gentle, kindly words. We may never 
meet again. Day shall follow day—the years shall wax and 
wane; but I, alas! a hopeless wanderer, exiled from your 
presence, from your sunny smiles, your dainty grace—I shall 
never again return. Farewell, dear love, farewell, farewell 
forever. [Aside.) Whew! If that don’t fetch her, Lm a 
Dutchman! 

Mir. ( Who, during above speech , has been quietly sobbing.) 
Are you gug, gug—gug, gug—going away? 

Win. I must. 

Mir. W-w-why must you? 

Win. You ask me why? You—whom a rival already claims? 
Well, so be it. Let me return your ring and then— 

Mir. [Joyously.) What! Oh, Ned! You darling! [Rush¬ 
ing into his arms.) So you had not given it away! 

Win. Never, dearest. And so you really do love me? 

Mir. [Head on his shoulder .) Don’t this look like it? 

Win. Um! [Kisses herl) But how about papa? 

Mir. Never fear. I can manage him. [Goes R.) But 
here comes that odious Captain. I must get rid of him. 
Leave us for a moment. 

Win. But I think I had better explain— 

Mir. Not now. Go, please—do go—or I shall be very 
much offended. [Pushes him out C. D., remaining near door.) 

Enter Ned, R. U. E. Comes down C., without noticing 

Miriam. 

Ned. There! I’ve punished a good square lunch, and a 
pint of the old man’s best claret. That’s what braces a fellow up! 


24 


EARLY VOWS. 


Mir. (Aside.) I wonder if he is in good humor? 

Ned. By George! Wouldn’t that old fellow rave if he 
knew that he had been entertaining his poor nephew instead of 
the rich Captain Winthrop! (Siis on so/a.) After all, I be¬ 
lieve I can pass muster very well as a rich man. I can sling 
on style enough, and as for spending money! (Snaps fingers.) 
Where is my equal? Of course I cannot keep up this decep¬ 
tion much longer, as the real Simon pure Captain Winthrop is 
liable to appear at any time—which would be devilish awk¬ 
ward. He can thank me for giving him a reputation. Wasn’t 
that a corker about fighting the Bedouin! And how my poor 
old uncle gulped it down. Ha, ha, ha! Like a toad swallow-' 
ing a fly. 

Mir. Now is my time. 

Ned. Couldn’t fool the girl, though. She’s sharper than 
(Sees Miriam) —the deuce! (Rises.) Think of an angel! I 
was just thinking of you, Miss. 

Mir. I am honored, sir. 

Ned. You look troubled, Miss Curtice. Can I serve you? 

Mir. Perhaps; I wished for this chance to speak with you, 
but— 

Ned. You hesitate. Proceed—I am all attention. 

Mir. I—I hardly know how to begin. 

Ned. Does it—pardon me—does it refer to our—ahem!— 
our proposed marriage? 

Mir. It does, sir. 

Ned. And how does the idea strike you? 

Mir. Most unfavorably. Oh, sir, may I speak frankly? 

Ned. Certainly. 

Mir. Then you can understand when I tell you that I am 
engaged to my cousin, whom I love with all my heart. 

Ned. (Aside.) Good gracious! Poor thing! (Aloud.) Do 
you mean Ned Wilder? 

Mir. Yes, sir. Do you know him ? 

Ned. (Aside.) Do I? (Aloud.) I think so. Is he handsome? 


EARLY VOWS. 


2 5 


Mlr. Yes. 

Ned. Well built? 

Mir. Yes. 

Ned. An eagle eye? 

Mir. Yes, yes! 

Ne*d. Fascinating manners? 

Mir. ( Clapping hands .) Oh, yes—yes! 

Ned. Looks like me? 

Mir. Oh, dear no. He is ever so much handsomer. 

Ned. (Aside.) The— (Direct) —Oh, he is! 

Mir. And you knew him? 

Ned. Intimately. But I regret to say that he was very 
fast. 

Mir. I know that. 

Ned. Perhaps you know of his wild follies, his extrava¬ 
gance, and all that? 

Mir. Yes—I know everything. 

Ned. The—ahem! Did you say “everything?” 

Mir. Why, yes —isn’t that all? 

Ned. All? All? Why, that’s not a beginning. 

Mir. (Half crying.) Oh, dear! What dreadful thing has 
Ned done? 

Ned. (Aside.) Murder will out; so here goes. (Aloud.) 
Your cousin, Miss Curtice, was a very romantic young man. 
I hope you are not romantic, for it raises hob with people. 
Your cousin saw a girl in Paris who danced in the ballet. 
He was in the front row, and jiminy! Couldn’t she kick! To 
make a long story short, they met, and she fell in love with me 
—-I mean with your cousin. Poor fellow! Your lovely image 
was enshrined in his heart, but—but— (Crosses R.) 

Mir. Merciful heaven—what? 

Ned. Ned was only human, you know, and really, she was 
a stunner! He held out, though, until in her despair she 
threatened to kick her own head off in her next pas de fas¬ 
cination. 


t 


26 EARLY VOWS. 

Mir. ( Half crying .) Did she do it? 

Ned. (Same tone.) No, she didn’t. Because he married 
her. 

Mir. He did? He did? Oh, the wretched wretch! Ah! I— 
(Gasps and sinks into Ned’s arms.) 

Ned. For heaven’s sake, let up! Don’t give it away. 

Enter Mr. Curtice, R. U. E., followed by Sampson and 

Susan. 

Mr. C. What is the matter? 

Susan. (Z.) Burglars! 

Samp. (Z.) Police! 

Ned. (A.) Shut up, you confounded fools! 

Mir. (Runs to Mr. C.) Oh, papa. (Theygo R. conversing .) 
Susan. (To Sampson.) He was pounding her. 

Samp. He was choking her. 

Susan. I say he was pounding her. 

Samp. I say he wasn’t. 

Susan. Bah! You blind old bat! 

Samp. You— you green eyed cat! 

Mr. C. Good land! Put them out, will you? 

Ned. Certainly. ( Runs Sampson out R. U. E. Puts arm 
around Susan, and wheels her off C. D.) 

Susan. (At C. D.) Were you choking her? 

Ned. Yes—this way. (Kisses her'. Exit Susan.) 

Mr. C. So— my fool of a nephew is married. And a bal¬ 
let dancer, too! That settles him—I’ll cut him off for good. 
Ned. (Aside.) I’m done for! 

Mr. C. A ballet girl! The idiot! 

Ned. But I assure you, sir, that she was a good, virtuous 
girl, and has made him a true, loving wife, clinging to him even 
in the poverty your selfishness has brought upon them. 

Mr. C. You seem mighty well informed. 

Ned. I am; for I think a great deal of her. 

Mir, Hush, he is coming. (Looks off L.) 



EARLY VOWS. 


27 


Ned. Who? 

Mir. My wicked cousin. 

Mr. C. Retire, my child. 

Mir. No, I will face the villain. 

Mr. C. And I will kick him out. 

Ned. (Aside.) Who are they talking about? 

Enter Winthrop C. B>. f from L. 

Mr. C. (Blustering.) Look here, you fellow— 

Win. (Calmly.) One moment, please. (Aside to Ned.) 
How goes it? 

Ned. It’s gone. 

Win. Gone? 

Ned. Yes—gone to smash. I'm all tangled up. 

Mr. C. Well, you scoundrel, what have you to say! 

Win. I regret that your nephew is a knave— 

Ned. What do you mean, sir? 

Win. And what do you mean, sir? 

Mir. Explain, sir. 

Ned ^ 1 ( Togetherl) Yes, sir—explain, sir! 

Win. I have nothing to explain, except that I regret de¬ 
ceiving you. It is the first time that I ever sailed under false 
colors, and if you will forgive me, Miss Curtice, I promise you 
it shall be the last. 

Mir. I forgive you freely. (Aside.) Oh, dear, and I can’t 
marry him after all. 

Win. So all is over between us? 

Mr. C. Over! Why, you, you— (Stamps.) You / 

Mir. (Crying.) How could you? 

Win. What? 

Mir. Marry that ba-ba-ballet dancer? 

Ned. (Aside.) I guess it runs in the family! 

Win. Married? I? 

Mir. (Points to Ned.) He says you are. 


28 


EARLY VOWS. 


Win. Then he is an infernal— 

Ned. Hold on. I said Ned Wilder was married. And I 
ought to know—for I am Ned Wilder. 


Mr. C. 
Mir. 


| (Together .) You are? 


Ned. I are—I mean I am. Forgive me, uncle. 

Mr. C. ( Pointing to Winthrop.) Well—and who is he? 
Ned. Blessed if I know. ( Crosses A.) 

Win. I can explain that. I am Captain Winthrop. ( Gen¬ 
eral surprise .) When I found that a childish romance stood 
between me and a little girl who ( takes Miriam’s hands; she 
hangs her head bashf ully) won my heart at first sight, I deter¬ 
mined to prove that Early Vows, like ropes of sand, are never 
binding. Have I succeeded? 

Mir. (Embracing him.) Yes. 

Mr. Curtice. Miriam. Winthrop. Ned. 


L. 


R. 


CURTAIN. 



THE ETHIOPIAN DRAMA. 

Price, rj cts. each, post-paid. 

These plays are all short, and very funny. Nothing poor in the list. The' 
*erve admirably to give variety to a programme. The female characters may b 
Assumed by males in most cases. Where something thoroughly comical, bn. 
unobjectionable is wanted, they are just the thing. 

STAGE STRUCK DARKY. 

A very funny “ take-off” on tragedy; 2 male, 1 female. Time 10 minutes. 

STOCKS UP—STOCKS DOWN. 

a males; a played-out author and his sympathizing friend; very funny and full 
*f “ business ” and practical jokes. Time 10 minutes. 

DEAF—IN A HORN. 

2 males; negro musician and a deaf pupil. A very interesting question sudden 
y enables the latter to hear. Full of first-class “ business.” Time 8 minutes. 

HANDY ANDY. 

2 males; master and servant. The old man is petulant and t : servant makes 
*11 sorts of ludicrous mistakes and misunderstands every order. Very lively ic 
action. Time 10 minutes. 

THE MISCHIEVOUS NIGGER, 

A farce; 4 males, 2 females. Characters: The mischievous nigger, old man, 
French barber, Irishman, widow, nurse. Time 20 minutes. 

THE SHAM DOCTOR. 

A negro farce; 4 males, 2 females. This is a tip-top farce. The “sham doctor” 
am not fail to bring down the house. Time 15 minutes. 

NO CURE , NO PAY. 

3 males, 1 female. Doctor Ipecac has a theory that excessive terror will cure 
people who are deaf and dumb. His daughter’s lover is mistaken for the patient 
to the terror of all. Only one darky. A capital little piece for schools or parlor, 
Time 10 minutes. 


TRICKS. 

5 males, 2 females. (Only two darkys, 1 male, 1 female.) A designing old 
*tep-father wishes to marry his step-daughter for her money. She and her lovei 
plan an elopement. The old man discovers it and has an ingenious counter-plot— 
which fails completely, to his discomfiture. Time 10 minutes. Suited to parlc 
performance. 


HAUNTED HOUSE. 

a males. A white-washer encounters “spirits” in a house he has agreed to 
white-wash. Plenty of business. Time 8 minutes. 

THE TWO POMPEYS. 

4 males. A challenge to a duel is worked up in a very funny way. Time 
8 minutes. 


AN UNHAPPY PAIR. 

3 males, and males for a band. Two hungry niggers strike the musician* 
for a square meal. Good for school or parlor, and very funny. Time 10 minutes. 


Any Play on this List I 5 Cts. 

Plays by T. S. DENISON. 

ODDS WITH THE ENEMY. 

A drama in five acts; 7 male and 4 fe¬ 
male characters. Time, 2 hours. 

SETH GREENBACK. 

A drama in four acts; 7 male and 3 fe¬ 
male. Time, 1 hour 15 m„ 

INITIATING A GRANGER. 

A ludicrous farce; S male. Time, 25 m. 

TWO GHOSTS IN WHITE. 

A humorous farce based on boarding- 
school life; 7 female characters. Time, 

25 ’ti- 

THE ASSESSOR 

A humorous sketch; 3 male and 2 fe¬ 
male. Time, 15 m. 

BORROWING TROUBLE. 

A ludicrous farce; 3 male and 5 fe¬ 
male. 'l ime, 30 m. 

COUNTRY JUSTICE. 

very amusing country law suit; S 
male characters. (May admit 14.) Time, 

15 m. 

THE PULL-BACK. 

A laughable farce; 6 female. Time, 

20 min. 

HANS VON SMASH. 

A roaring farce in a prologue and one 
act; 4 male and 3 female, 'l ime, 30 m. 

OUR COUNTRY. 

A patriotic drama in three parts. Re¬ 
quire ; 9 male, 3 female, (Admits 9 male 
1«; female.) Four fine tableaux. Time, 
about. 1 hour. 

THE SCHOOL MA'AM. 

A briliant comedy in four acts; 6 male, 

5 female. Time, 1 hour 43 11.in. 

THE IRISH LINEN PEDDLER. 

A lively three; 3 male, 3 female. Time, 

45 m. 

THE KANSAS IMMIGRANTS; Or, the 
Great Exodus. 

A roaring farce; 5 male, 1 female. 
Time, 30 m. 

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING. 

A splendid farce; 3 male, 6 female. 
Time, 45 m. 

IS THE EDITOR IN? 

A farce; 4 male and 2 female. 

AN ONLY DAUGHTER. 

A drama in three acts; 3 male and 2 
female. Time, 1 hour 13 m. 

PETS OF SOCIETY. 

A farce in high life; 7 females. Time, 
30 m. 



0 018 604 073 9 | 

, 2 female. Time, 20 1... “ 


LOUVA, THE PAUPER. 

A drama in five acts; 9 male and 4 fe¬ 
male characters. Time, 1 hour 43 in. 

UNDER THE LAURELS. 

A drama in five acts; a stirring play, 
fully equal lo Louva the Pauper. Five 
male, 4 feirale. Time, 1 hour 45 m. 

THE SPARKLING CUP. 

A temperance drama in five acts; 12 
male and 4 female. 


Play* by H. Elliott McBride. 

ON THE BRINK. 

A temperance drama in two acts; 12 
male, 3 female. Time, 1 hour 45 m. 

A BAD JOB. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 30 m. 

PLAYED AND LOST. 

A sketch; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 
20 m. 

MY JEREMIAH. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 25 in- 

LUCY'S OLD MAN. 

A sketch; 2 male, 3 female. Time, 20 
in. 

THE COW THAT KICKED CHICAGO. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 23 m. 

I'LL STAY AWHILE. 

A farce; 4 male. Time, 25 111. 

-o- 

THE FRIDAY AFTERNION DIALOGUES, 

Short and lively'. For boys and girls. 
—Price 25 cts. 

FRIDAY AFTERNOON SPEAKER- 

A choice collection. Three parts: for 
little folks, for older boys and girls, short 
pithy dialogues. — Price 26 cts. 

SCRAP BOOK READINGS. 

Latest and best pieces .—Price per No. 
(paper cover) 25 cts, 

WORK AND PLAY. 

BY MARY J. JACQUES. 

A gem for the little folks. This is a 
book of both instruction and amusement. 
Part I consists of a large v'.riety of very 
easy progressive exercises in letters, 
numbers, objects, geography, language, 
animated nature, motion, songs,. etc. 
Part II consists of dialogues, charades, 
pantomimes,etc. all original. —Price, 
in Manilla boards, post paid, 50 cts. 


T. S. DENISON, Publisher, CHICAGO. 




















